A Climbing Betty's journey to find love & strength in the mountains

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Have you been to the Gunks? Do you know how epic climbing here can be? I thank my lucky stars this is my home crag, but even I haven’t seen it look this sexy before. Give it a watch. Fair warning: probably NSFW if you find beautiful footage of climbers free-soloing classic routes to cause your palms & brow to break out in a cold sweat, your heart rate to increase and your breathing to become more shallow & rapid- necessitating a hasty exit to the nearest bathroom… or supply closet.

Shameless plug- if you do plan a climbing trip here- go over to the App Store and download yourself the Trapps App (and now the Nears App too!). This is really the best ‘guidebook’ to the area. And since you’re carrying your phone with you for all those summit selfies you’ll put on Instagram later, no excuse not to download it.

I came across this post on Facebook this morning and I love it! It’s one of the things I love about the community of women climbers around here.

I know some people complain that women can be really competitive. I don’t doubt this, but I think the above meme captures the problem succinctly- it’s usually stems from insecurity. Media and advertising campaigns seem invested in making women feel insecure. We are constantly told we need to be thinner, prettier, have the right clothes, etc. for what? To get a man. To get the right man. To reach some supposed pinnacle of womanly existence where we live like a Kardashian. Yuck.

Even in sport, competition- the negative kind- is often driven by a feeling of not being ‘enough.’ That winning more, beating someone else, will somehow prove that one is enough. The problem is that there is always more to achieve and that feeling of finally being ‘enough’ is always just out of reach.

There is a positive side to ‘competition’ though. When it drives us to work harder and to do our best. When seeing someone else achieve something inspires us to re-evaluate our own perceived limits. When it builds us up.

A few weeks ago, I belayed a climbing partner on a climb. After following her on it, I started to think that perhaps I could lead it too. It was a line that always had an inexplicable pull on me, but the intimidating moves though the roof always filled me with doubt- and dread. The idea of leading it started to pulse stronger through my brain last season, but after seeing her achieve it a few weeks ago- I knew I had to reevaluate my own perceived limits.

Each time I went climbing, it called to me, but fear kept me avoiding engaging in the challenge. Yesterday, the climb nearly screamed in my brain as I made my morning coffee and roughed out a plan for the day. Being a popular climb and a beautiful fall Sunday at the Gunks, I thought (hoped) I would be saved by crowds of climbers swarming on the climb. We walked right up to it, with no one on the climb. *gulp*

That was my sign. Today was my day. My sending day.

I racked up and tried to keep calm. Not only was I going to attempt the climb, but I was going to do it as my ‘warm-up’ climb of the day. I was petrified. I kept trying to remember my ujjayi breathing from yoga class that morning. There was also the false start where I got halfway up the climb and then had to go to the bathroom so bad, I lowered off to relieved myself before getting into the crux. (There was no way I was going to be able to do the required stemming at the crux without creating a really embarrassing incident.) Thankfully, my lovely climbing partner that day was so patient and so supportive. She encouraged me to keep going, to stay calm, and to focus on one move at a time, even though she could have led the climb in half the time and with way less drama. She’s one of my favorite strong women- secure enough in her own badass-ness that she encourages it and brings it out in others- like me. 🙂

I also learned that its OK to be afraid- climbing is scary after all! But becoming a better climber is about leaning into the fear and learning when to push through it so you can come out the other side.

The other week I was listening to The Enormocast. I’m a little behind so I was listening to the episode where Chris interviewed four climbers at the Red Rock Renedezvous. I loved this little schtick he did called ‘The Hanging Belay’ where he asked 5 or 6 questions in rapid succession. One of the questions was, ‘when was the last time you cried on a climb?’

For me, that answer would be “two weeks ago.”

Now, personally, I think 5.9 slab is enough to make anyone cry. In fact, in my house, we have joke: “What’s the pro for 5.10 slab? Zanax.” I’m not really good at slab. I’m a Gunks climber, so I do the same move over and over again- reach up, grab the big jug, high-step, repeat until the belay/top-out. I’ve got that move down. I’m comfortable with it. I’m pretty sure slab is the exact opposite of Gunks climbing. So part of my problem was I just wasn’t any good at this particular 5.9 slab- delicate moves, few handholds, lots of trusting one’s feet/sticky rubber. No room for thuggy moves or my beloved high steps.

And this route had a traverse at the beginning. I hate traverses. So I was gripped. I was petrified to fall, so I reacted. I started to get mad at my partner for dragging me on that climb. Didn’t he know I suck at slab? I know he knows I hate traverses and yet, he dragged me up this climb anyway. In his defense, he had never been on this particular climb before, so he didn’t really know what he was in for either.

Conflated with fear, I wasn’t thinking or acting rationally. I had to give my fear an outlet. I started to curse like a sailor as I simply willed my feet to stick to the rock as I moved off of the first bolt. By the time I reached the next stance, my feet and calves were cramping and simply cursing was not enough. I looked up at my partner at the belay and flipped him the bird. I used both hands because, hey- it was slab- my hands were damn near useless anyway. As I continued, I started to curse him. He blew it off at first, but he could only handle so much abuse at my hands and tried to calm me down. As I became aware of my bad behavior and how it must appear to the party below, I became really self-conscious and ashamed. And that’s when I started to cry. Once the first tear fell, the floodgates opened and I cried my way through the top half of the climb.

I should note that my partner that day was my husband. I can remember three and only 3, distinct incidents where I have cried while climbing. All with him. I just never let myself get that emotionally vulnerable with another partner. Not while climbing at least. I may whine, I may whimper, I may curse like a sailor, I may nearly pee my pants (expensive Gore-Tex pants I might add), but I never cry. Just with him.

As embarrassing as it is when I have these breakdowns, which isn’t often, I’m really glad that I have a partner like him that I can be that vulnerable with. I can be that vulnerable with him because I trust him completely. Not only do I trust him to handle my emotional reactions, but I trust him to be a completely competent climber and I trust him to push me- just a little. Most days, that’s a really great thing because I grow and learn from the experience and it makes me a better climber. Every once in awhile, that push is a tad too much- or more, realistically- the push is just enough, I’m just not in the right frame of mind to accept and meet the challenge. But that intrinsic push and pull, even when it might end in some tears, in one of the things I love and value most about having a life partner who is as passionate about climbing and this lifestyle as I am.

Have you ever cried on a climb??? Tell me about it in the comments below…